


Melt Me

by Gwennefer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Confident Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Smut, Cullen and Lavellan are dumb ok, F/M, Flirting, Kinda, Making Love, Morning Sex, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Slow Burn, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22539814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwennefer/pseuds/Gwennefer
Summary: Cullen and Leyna Lavellan always seem to dance around one another, always close, but never getting any closer. And their friends have decided they've had quite enough of it.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 5
Kudos: 144





	Melt Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just finished replaying DA:I and oh my god I forgot how much I love Cullen and his romance. Like he makes me so soft and I just needed to write something loving and sappy for him because he does that to me. 
> 
> If you're here and reading this, I hope you enjoy!

For days their paths have crossed, too busy for anything more than a smile or short greeting of “Inquisitor.”

To which she would always softly reply “Commander.” 

Cullen finds himself wishing more and more that they had a reason to spend more time together outside of the war room. Where he is confined to being her advisor and trying desperately to pay attention to the matters at hand instead of giving in to his desire to just look at her. The way she leans and stretches over the map, pointing out landmarks she had found, and items and happenings of significance. The soft pull of her brows together when Josephine begins talking about politics, and hierarchy and things that despite all her studying the Dalish woman has a hard time grasping the nuances of. The way she looks at Cullen like she’s drowning because he’s the only one that seems to share her disdain of the game and he always does his best to hide his smile, but her own expression always cracks and softens when he finally breaks. 

He wants desperately to get to know the woman that he has only seen glimpses of, and not the Inquisitor. What makes her laugh, what she finds peaceful, what she’s afraid of, what makes her angry, what makes her feel alive.

He sees the way she is with Dorian and Varric, the way they make her laugh and how young it reminds Cullen she is to see her so full of mirth. The way she speaks with Solas, serious and full of reverence as he teaches her things about her own people. 

So used to seeing her as the Inquisitor, strong and dauntless and steady, ready to bear the weight of the world upon her shoulders if it means saving it, he sometimes forgets. Forgets that before she had fallen into their laps at the Temple of Sacred Ashes she was just a young Dalish woman, full of curiosity and wonder. He tries to imagine her with her clan, what she was like then, when she was just carefree and young. How quickly things had changed.

Cullen sighs, lifting himself off his knee and looking up at the statue of Andraste he had once more failed to pray to. Another woman consuming too much of his mind.

“It’s foolish of me,” he breathes aloud to the stone woman who, like always, offers him nothing in return. 

He’s not sure Leyna would even want him to be anything more than an advisor, with him being a human, and a heavily flawed one at that. She could very well feel nothing but respect for him. 

With the candles still burning he leaves the small prayer room, the cool air stinging color into his cheeks as he steps into the garden.

And there she is, sitting in the gazebo with Leliana, who’s listening intently to something the elven woman in saying to her. She’s talking excitedly, eyes wide and hands fluttering gracefully about as she regales the Sister. 

Her copper hair is loose today, framing her fair face in soft waves, the silvery Vallaslin across her cheeks and brow clashing against the flush on her face and freckles across her nose. 

He realizes he’s staring a little too late when she turns and her eyes meet his, round and mismatched, one the color of sun shining through green glass and the other the pale grey-blue of a winter sky. Her lips turn into a smile ever so slightly, a small acknowledgement before she turns her attention back to Leliana. 

“So close, lines always passing never crossing, waves reaching for a shore they can’t reach,” Cole’s voice suddenly coming from beside him makes Cullen jump, the man not quite used to the boys peculiar behaviors and he takes a few steadying breaths. 

“Maker, Cole could you give me at least a little warning?” Cullen still isn’t thrilled about the boy being allowed to stay, and being given such free reign but Leyna had been adamant. 

And he was too weak to stand against her. 

“Forgive me, her thoughts are loud today,” Cole takes a step closer to Leyna before adding. “So are yours.”

Cullen blinks at the boy before looking back at Leyna, his mouth going dry as the thought crosses his mind, and before he can stop himself asks, “Does she think of me?” 

“Often,” Cole answers simply. “Glowing, golden, softer than he seems. Eyes like honey in the sun, melting, melting, melting her down until she thinks of them when her mind wanders. He feels like grass beneath bare feet, bark beneath her fingers as she climbs, splashing in the river with her friends. Lighter, like before she became so bright, makes her hope. She likes the way he speaks to her. You should speak to her.”

And then the boy is gone, leaving Cullen gaping at empty air, trying to ignore the way his heart skips a few beats in his chest. He spares the Inquisitor one more look, and then he flees. 

↭

“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Dorian muses, leaning on his staff as Leyna crouches down to search the dead Venatori’s pockets.

“You’ll ask anyway,” she quips before finding a piece of paper that she quickly scans over.

“You know me so well. How do marriages work in Dalish clans? Are there betrothals? Do you marry outside of your clan? Are marriages arranged?” 

“That is more than a question,” she sighs, finally finding the orders she was looking for and straightening. “But to answer your questions, yes and no. It depends on the clan, some have need to marry into other clans, and sometimes those are arranged. Often though clans stay within themselves.” 

“So did you leave any lover behind? A fiance?” Dorian follows her from the cave, watches her curl and uncurl her fingers on her drawing hand. 

“No, there was no one in my clan who particularly grabbed my attention in such a way,” she rolls her shoulder then her neck, squinting up at the sky to check the time. 

“Oh dear, so what’s your type then?” Dorian asks as they join Varric and Cole where they wait with the horses.

“Please don’t tell me it took you as long as it did because you were in there talking about guys,” Varric chuckles, but there is an undertone of exasperation that makes Leyna smile. 

“No, it took me as long as it did because Dorian stood and asked questions while I looked for these,” Leyna holds up the documents they had been after, a look of relief crossing the dwarves face upon seeing them.

“Well, at least you found them.”

“You still need to answer my question,” Dorian insists as they mount the horses to start their trek to camp before heading back to Skyhold.

“I don’t have a ‘type’ Dorian.”

“No? Are you sure? What about strapping, burly blonde ex-Templars?” Dorian teases and she feels heat creep up her face at the implication. 

“T-that’s... why would you ask that?” She tries to keep her voice even, but she can feel her heart beating just a little bit harder.

“Please, we all see the way you look at one another. You’re like love sick puppies honestly, and yet neither one of you does a thing about it. It’s maddening.” 

Dorian’s words make her stomach flip, she can feel her pulse in her throat which has gone suddenly very dry as she scrambles to think of how to respond.

“I hate to agree with him but, Sparkles is right Inquisitor,” Varric chimes and she turns on him, but he simply shrugs at her look of betrayal. 

She stares forward, unsure of what to say as her mind reels. She hadn’t had an interest in Cullen right away, infact when she’d first seen him she had been intimidated, even a bit afraid. He’s a shem, and an ex-Templar, and she had grown up hearing stories about people like him, hard and cold in their suites of metal behind walls of steel. But once she had gotten to know him, listened to his blustering replies to Leliana and Josephine’s teasing, gotten used to the way he would look at her so gently. Like he saw Leyna and not just the Inquisitor, like if he breathed too hard in her direction she might shatter. It all changed. She found herself more and more wanting to be near him, just to hear what he had to say, to see that small smile where the scarred corner of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly, to look into his eyes when the sun shone on them. 

“I- but I’m an elf, Dalish, what if he…”

“He doesn’t mind,” Cole cuts her off, and they all turn to the boy she had nearly forgotten was even there. “Your ears, your Vallaslin. In fact he likes them, they make you more you. Likes the way the tips of your ears go red when you flush. Reminds him you’re mortal, not fire and stone and ivory and just as unattainable as the stone woman he prays to. Strong, soft, a reason to continue to believe.”

“That’s…” she takes a deep breath, going dizzy from all the blood that’s rushed to her face, unable to bring herself to meet any of her companions eyes. “Thank you for that Cole.” 

“Then it’s settled,” Dorian says. “We will return to Skyhold and you two will finally stop dancing around one another.”

Leyna shakes her head, feeling as though anything left that could be said would be useless at this point. She wonders how long, if he truly feels that way, how long he’s kept it to himself. What fears he has that hold him back. 

They ride back to camp, Dorian and Varric bantering with an occasional addition from Cole. Leyna stays silent, too many things whirling around in her head in not the proper time and place to sort them all out. 

She strips down to her leggings and tunic once in her tent, removing her archery glove and grimacing at the bleeding blisters on her fingers. She’s been reluctant to part with her archery gear as they had been gifts from her Keeper, but they’re no good to her with the leather worn so thin. She’ll have to speak to Harritt about a new glove. 

Dorian announces himself before stepping into her tent, his expression soft as his gaze lands on her hand.

“I suspected as much, here let me tend to them.”

“It’s fine Dorian, just some sores.”

“Sores that will make it very unpleasant to shoot your bow,” he arches a brow at her and she concedes, dropping onto the edge of her cot. 

He drags a chair over and sits in front of her, his care gentle and swift as he cleans the blood away to see what kind of damage he’s working with. 

“I didn’t mean to overstep earlier. Well, that’s not true I entirely meant to overstep,” he tells her as he treats her blistered fingers with a salve and special dressings. “But, I do consider you a friend. And as your friend, Cullen would be good for you, and I want you to be happy, to have something to keep coming back to until this is all over.” 

She blinks up at him, caught off guard by the genuine confession from the mage and he scoffs at her.

“Please, don’t look at me like that, I detest all this heart to heart nonsense. But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true,” he finishes her dressings and gives his handiwork a quick once over before deciding he’s pleased with it. “Rest well Inquisitor.”

“Dorian,” she calls after him before he slips from the tent, the man pausing to turn and cast her a questioning look. “Thank you.”

He smiles, nodding his head before offering a soft, “Of course.”

And then he’s gone.

↭

She spends an hour pacing a circle in front of her fireplace, trying to push the images that haunt her from her mind but they are persistent. It’s far past midnight and she has a strong suspicion tonight will be another that is sleepless. 

Perhaps something to read, a distraction at least will help.

She drapes a blanket over her shoulders, preparing for the chill that will greet her once she leaves the warmth of her room. 

A cawing crow greets her in the stairwell before flitting off and she moves as silently as possible down the stone steps. She eases the door closed as she steps into the main hall, turning and pausing when she sees a figure sitting in front of the fire in the space usually occupied by Varric, mostly concealed by the large wooden chair. Slowly she approaches, not sure who it is, or if they’re awake. Then they shift and she sees golden curls before he turns.

His eyes widen and he all but leaps to his feet as he turns to face her, no doubt looking just as shocked as he does. 

“Inquisitor, Maker, I didn’t hear you coming,” Cullen breathes, a hand quickly reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose as his shoulders slump, posture softening. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were awake, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to startle you,” she grips her blanket tighter around herself, eyes shifting to the fire. It’s still bright and well fed.

How long has he been here?

“No, don’t apologize. Too easily startled I suppose,” he laughs at himself but his smile has a tinge of something else, a hurt that flashes through his eyes and it makes her chest feel heavy. 

“You have good reason to be cautious,” she offers before gesturing to the other empty seat. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all,” he breathes, lowering himself back into his chair as she takes the one beside him.

He barely fits in the chair sitting like a normal person, but she curls in on herself, tucking her knees to her chest. It makes her look even smaller, almost like a child as she wraps the blanket around her legs.

“It’s a bit late for a stroll, why are you awake?” Cullen asks and she smiles, watching the flames flicker and twist around one another.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she turns to look at him and his lips twitch in an attempt not to smile back, his eyes gleaming in the warm light. “But since you asked first I’ll answer first.” 

She takes a deep breath and rolls her shoulder, leaning her head back against the seat as she tries to compose her story concisely.

“Ever since my encounter with the Envy demon in the Fade I have been … troubled,” she shudders involuntarily, closing her eyes as its warped version of her own voice echoes in her mind. “I know what it showed me was not real but, it awoke fears I did not realize I had until then. I can still hear it taunting me in moments of quiet, when I try to sleep, even in my dreams. I have… never been afraid of dreaming before.” 

When she finally opens her eyes and looks at him his expression is somber, lips pulled into a frown, brows pulled together and low, his hands clasped and resting under his chin. But she knows he understands. Knows out of anyone else he understands the most. 

“I hadn’t realized,” he sounds almost guilty, like it’s his fault for not seeing her pain. “We had to act so quickly after it happened, and you seemed so together. I didn’t even think to see how it affected you. If you were alright. I should have.”

“In truth there wasn’t much time to dwell on it then,” she sighs, offering him a soft smile. “Dealing with the Templars kept me busy, distracted but now, with this lull… But what about you? What keeps our Commander awake?”

He gives her a look that lets her know he isn’t pleased with her changing the subject, but he goes along with it anyway. 

“I had nightmares before I stopped taking the Lyrium, but now they are worse. Louder somehow,” he picks at a callous on his palm, unable to meet her gaze now. “I assume you know of some of my time in the Ferelden Circle?”

“Yes, what I’ve read in reports. It’s terrible what happened, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you,” thinking of it almost makes her feel guilty for her own fear, like perhaps she’s overreacting. 

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind, to hear voices they’ve convinced you are your own,” he finally meets her eyes and it makes the air catch in her throat, he almost looks as though he could cry. “I should have asked after you sooner, made sure you were alright. Forgive me.”

“Cullen… That’s-there’s nothing to forgive I-” 

“I want to be someone you can rely on, for more than just battle strategy and advice. I want,” he sighs, frustrated with himself for being so ineloquent with his self expression. “I care for you Leyna, it feels more and more each day. Perhaps even more than I should but I … You’ve become very important to me and I need you to know that.”

She blinks at him, trying to remember the last time she had heard him call her by name and failing. She’d like it to happen more often. And then his confession, reminding her of Cole’s words and Dorian’s insisting, her heart fluttering in her chest as she takes a deep breath.

“I would … Like that as well Cullen, for you to be more, us to be more.” his eyes widen slightly, shoulders dropping as though that had not been at all the response he was expecting. “You’re important to me too.”

He hesitates before reaching out to her and she lets him take her hand, small, slender, and delicate within his own worn, rough ones. He traces a few of the scars across the back of her hand with his thumb as though he has waited years for it, as though she were some holy being he cannot believe would allow him contact. 

“I did not think it was possible, I’ve had so many doubts but … never about you. I would have been content staying by your side forever as your Commander if it meant staying by your side but this,” he whispers, carefully enclosing her hand within both of his and she finds herself leaning closer. “It seems too much to ask.”

“But here I am,” she says and he looks up at her, a smile pulling at his lips and she can’t help but smile back.

“So you are,” he’s close enough now she can feel his breath on her face, warm and smelling faintly of mead and her mind goes hazy, rational thought abandoning her.

She’s not sure who closes the gap but his lips are on hers, cautious yet hungry, one of his hands reaching up to cup her jaw as she leans into him. It’s a tender kiss, questioning, yet knowing, unlike the eager clumsy kisses she’d had from a few curious boys from her clan. This kiss knows its intent and it is soft as his lips move slowly against her own.

“I-” he lets out a shaky laugh as he pulls away, resting his forehead against hers. “That was … nice.”

“Nice is a good word for it,” she smiles at him and he flushes, clearing his throat before reluctantly pulling away.

“I should let you try and get some rest, while you still can, and see if I can steal from for myself,” he stands, offering his hand to help her up.

“If I couldn’t quiet my mind before, I certainly won’t be able to now,” she says and he chuckles.

“Then it looks like I must once more ask your forgiveness,” he leans down, pressing his lips lightly to her forehead before whispering. “Goodnight, Leyna.” 

With one last infuriating smirk he leaves her standing there in slight disbelief, but feeling absolutely weightless. 

↭

“My people have been hearing some interesting rumors lately,” Leliana greets as Leyna approaches her perch on the highest floor of the tower.

“Should I be concerned?” Leyna has a feeling she already knows the answer but she’s interested in hearing what the spymaster has to say. 

Leliana might be quite cold but Leyna feels she understands her, she admires the woman and despite her demeanor considers her one of the few people she can truly trust wholeheartedly. Even Josephine she feels she has to tiptoe around so as not to upset sensibilities. Leliana’s methods are simpler sometimes. 

“There as been an upstart in conversation surrounding you and our dear Commander. There is speculation you two are romantically involved,” Leliana finally glances up from the order she was writing, an all too knowing smirk on the Orlesian womans face. 

“Are you sure your people haven’t been the one spreading the rumors?” Leyna muses and Leliana feigns shock.

“What a bold accusation from our Lady Inquisitor. Are you finally beginning to understand the game?” Leliana smiles over at her and the elf rolls her eyes.

“I think I’m finally getting the hang of yours, at least,” she takes a seat across from Leliana who folds her hands in her lap.

“It certainly took the two of you long enough, I was beginning to think you’d dance around one another forever,” Leliana admits.

“Dorian said something very similar to me some time ago,” Leyna narrows her eyes at Leliana but of course the woman doesn’t waver, just smiles sweetly.

“Oh yes, Dorian, Varric, and I have spent a significant deal of time trying to figure out how to push the two of you into action,” Leliana doesn’t so much as look even a bit ashamed of the confession, even as Leyna gapes. “It’s was Dorian’s idea to involve Cole, regrettably. I wish I could claim it.” 

“You mean…” Leyna tries first to process the information, and second how she feels about the information. She’s certainly not upset, if anything she supposes she’s thankful as she’s not sure it would have happened without their involvement. But for them to have orchestrated it all and her to not even notice any of it. And for Varric to even be involved? 

“You made it obvious neither you nor Cullen would act without prompt and support, so we gave that to you,” Leliana sighs. “As much as we admire and respect your focus and drive to head this Inquisition and him it’s forces, you two can be terribly dense and clumsy.”

And Leyna laughs, laughs because she doesn’t know what else to say or do and because she knows Leliana is right. But still, to think so many of her friends had seen it so clearly before either her or Cullen. She and him truly must be fools after all.

↭

“What will you do, once this is all over?” Leyna asks, leaning back into Cullen’s chest as his arms wrap around her. 

“I… Haven’t thought that far ahead. There will still be so much left to do even if we manage to defeat Corypheus. I’d like to stay and be part of those efforts,” he rests his chin on the top of her head. “What of you? Would you return to your clan?”

She feels him tense as he waits for the answer and she finds one of his hands, intertwining her fingers with his. 

“No, so much has happened going back to that small, quiet life wouldn’t seem right,” it’s something she’s thought about endlessly, even as much as she misses them, she feels she has far surpassed what her clan could ever be. “Besides, I think I’d like to stay where you are.”

“I-” She feels him relax, letting out a breath he had been holding. “I would like that as well. I’d never thought of myself as someone who might have a peaceful future as an option but… It is a nice thought.”

The cool air from up on the battlements stings at her cheeks and makes her eyes water but his presence helps keep her warm, wrapped in all his fur and armor. It’s clear out today, and from up here it seems like the white capped mountains stretch on forever, some of them gleaming in the sun. She wonders what it will be like, to live in a time where she’ll be able to look back and miss this view. It fills her with an odd sense of melancholy to realize one way or another this will all come to an end. Not that she’ll miss the chaos and fear, but she will miss the people, the one’s she’s come to consider friends who will someday all have to part ways to chase purposes outside of one anothers reach. 

“How long until your meeting with the tailor?” Cullen’s question pulls her from her thoughts and she groans at the reminder.

“About an hour, although Josphine insists that if I’m on time I’m early, but if I’m too late it’s rude. What does that even mean? If they want me to arrive fifteen minutes later why not ask me to arrive fifteen minutes later?” Leyna rambles and Cullen laughs, gently turning her in his hold to face him. 

“You, my dear,” he tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she tries not to shudder as the stitches of his gloves drag over the pointed tip of her ear, “are asking the wrong person.”

He keeps his palm on her cheek and she presses into his touch, wishing his hands were bare but she’ll take what she can get. It’s hard enough for them to steal a moment alone together, much less time in a slightly more intimate setting. 

“Leyna?”

“Hm?”

“May I?” She meets his gaze as he asks for permission, deciding to answer him by leaning up on her toes and pressing her lips to his.

He sighs against her lips, his arm curling around her waist to pull her closer as her fingers curl into his hair. She wishes desperately there wasn’t so much material between them and she could feel his heart beating against her chest, just to know it was beating as hard as hers. But it’s been weeks now of nothing but these stolen moments and she can’t help that she wants. She wants him, more of him, as much as he’ll give. 

She flicks her tongue against his upper lip and he parts them, his tongue meeting hers in the middle as his fingers press into her hips. He groans, guiding her back until he’s all but crushing her between him and the stone wall but it just makes her hungrier. Makes her want more. 

One of his hands slides up her back, curling loosely around the base of her neck and she envies him for how much of her he can feel. She curses his armor again, swearing to herself to steal a moment with him when he’s got it off. 

Then he pulls away, pressing his face into the side of her neck as he catches his breath, still holding her against him.

“Are you alright?” She smooths her fingers through his hair, getting him to lift his head as she smooths her thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I-It’s just, we should probably stop, before I get too carried away,” he opens his eyes and they’re the darkest she’s even seen them, pupils blown wide and she bites on her lower lip as he sighs. “There’s still work to be done, and you have an appointment to be late for.”

She knows he’s right but it’s still disappointing, but even as she traces the scar on his lip his gaze stays dark and unwavering and it makes her feel small beneath it. But it’s good to know she’s not the only one left wanting after all their stolen kisses and moments cut too short to allow for much else.

“If only the world would keep turning if we disappeared for more than an hour,” she muses and he laughs.

“There would be chaos, Josephine would break out in hives if you went missing,” he traces the Vallaslin across her brow, lips parting as if to say something else but he’s cut off.

“Inquisitor I-I'm so sorry to interrupt but Lady Montilyet requests your presence at once,” the scout flushes, the boy going an alarming shade of red as he glances between his Commander and Inquisitor in their intimate embrace. “They’re waiting for you in Lady Montilyet’s office.”

The boy offers a quick bow before all but running away, his head held low as he rushes to the nearest door.

“As I was saying,” Cullen pulls himself away from her, placing a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Enjoy your appointment, Inquisitor.” 

And like always, she is left, still wanting. 

↭

“She should be back by now. We should have sent more troops with her,” Cullen paces the war room floor, worry hidden behind anger.

“More troops would have made more noise, surprise and stealth was her best option at overwhelming them,” Leliana retorts, almost looking startled when the Commander rounds on her.

“More troops would have meant more protection! Your scouts don’t even have word of her! She could be-” He cuts himself off, pressing a hand over his eyes as his head throbs and he growls in frustration. 

“Cullen? Are you alright?” Leliana’s voice is closer now, softer and he feels some of his anger ebb, giving way to his fear. 

“It’s my head, making it hard to,” he sighs lowering his hand and looking to meet the woman’s gaze. “It’s making it hard to think.”

“Bring a tonic for the Commander’s head, quickly, please,” Josephine orders one of the servants who is more than eager to get out of the room. “There’s no use arguing over what should have been done, it will not change what has been done. I understand your distress but all that can be done now is wait.”

“Josie is right,” Leliana looks over at Cullen who now has his head pressed between his hands like he’s trying to crush it. “Perhaps you should have a seat.”

“My ears are ringing... I think- I feel-” Cullen sways and the two women rush to steady him, leading him over to a seat and lowering him into it. 

He can feel his pulse through the soles of his feet all the way up to his head. Each beat of his heart feels like a small earthquake and he wishes it would still for just a moment so he could gather himself. He doesn’t understand, is it the stress, the fear, he’s never felt this way before. Then he realizes it’s the Lyrium, it would all stop if he took it, just a little, just enough to tide him over until this was over. 

But he also knows that’s not an option. He can only imagine how disappointed Leyna would be if she found out he caved to his addiction after doing so well. 

“Here, drink this,” he opens his eyes to Leliana thrusting a glass into his hands.

Without thinking twice he takes it, and downs it, letting Leliana hand the now empty glass back to the servant.

“Perhaps you should go lie down, try to rest while we wait. This is obviously taking a toll,” Josephine suggests. 

“Yes, I-I think I need a moment,” Cullen stands, waving off anyone who tries to help him out of the room. 

His feet drag as he walks, feeling like each leg weighs a ton. He can feel people watching as he passes but he doesn’t care, he just needs to lie down, to close his eyes for just a moment. When he finally climbs the last step and pushes the door open he pauses.

He’d brought himself to Leyna’s room, not his own.

It’s been weeks since she even laid in her bed, weeks since he’s seen her, held her, heard her voice. Maker he hadn’t realized how much he missed her.

He drops onto her bed, sure she wouldn’t mind if he laid in it for just a few minutes. He wonders what was in that tonic as he begins to feel sluggish, slow. He swears he can smell a traces of her on her pillow, something like pine and cinnamon.

“Cullen?” Her voice, soft and worried pull him from sleep and it takes a long moment to open his eyes but there she is.

Her hair is messy, there’s dirt, blood, and bruises blooming on her face, there’s a cut that starts on her forehead and passes over her eye to continue down her cheek. She looks tired, beaten, but alive. 

“Is this a dream?” He mumbles, reaching out and brushing his fingers over her lips, just to make contact, to feel her.

“No, I’m here,” she takes his hand, presses her cheek into his palm and then smiles and he swears he could burst.

“Leliana told me you weren’t feeling well and came to lay down, she said the tonic they gave you might make you feel a little confused,” she knees beside him, smoothing her fingers over his forehead, through his hair, massaging his scalp, the touch soothing and nearly enough to lull him right back to sleep.

“That would certainly … explain some things,” he forces his eyes open, determined not to miss a second of her if she’s truly there. “By Andraste, I have missed you.”

“And I you,” she presses a soft kiss to his palm before pulling away, which he only gets to protest shortly as she assures him, “I’m going to bathe, I’ll be right back.”

It seems like only a moment before she returns, hair damp, face clean, the cut on her face properly dressed.

“Let’s get you out of that armor,” she guides him to sit up, carefully undoing all the ties and buckles required and setting each piece aside with care until he’s left in his trousers and shirt. “Better?”

“As long as you’re here it doesn’t matter,” he admits and she sighs but crawls onto the bed beside him. 

She tucks her head beneath his chin and he eagerly loops his arms around her, holding her close, pressing his face into the top of her hair and relishing in this moment of having her back. She drapes an arm over his waist and he has a moment of clarity where he realizes she had been gone, she had been in danger, his fear and anger from earlier. But here she is, curled up in his arms, safe and worried about him and he could almost cry.

“I was-what happened? Leliana’s people lost sight of you-you disappeared-I was so afraid…” He curls his fingers into her, holding her closer, afraid he might lose her again if he lets her go.

“I know, Leliana… told me what happened. I’m sorry I made you worry, I’ll explain it when your head is clearer,” she leans back enough to be able to look at him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “For now, we both need rest.”

And that sounds good enough to him so he nods, pulling her back into him as she settles close. 

↭

Cullen wakes to light streaming through windows, setting alight particles drifting through the air, and a completely numb left arm. 

He turns to look at Leyna, still sound asleep against him. Her hair is messy, expression relaxed and soft, her lips and eyes puffy from sleep. He gently tames her hair with his fingers. He traces her Vallaslin with careful fingers, across her cheekbone, up her nose, over her brow, avoiding the fresh cut over her eye. 

Just enough tension returns to her body to let him know she’s waking even with her eyes still closed. She blinks, a small sound leaving her as she opens her eyes enough to meet his. He cups her cheek in his palm and she offers him a lazy smile, reaching up to trail her fingers lightly over his jaw rough with stubble. 

“Sleep well?” He asks, voice still gravely and low from the disuse during sleep and she hums.

“I did. Did you?” He takes her hand as she speaks, turning to press his lips against the pads of her fingers.

“Better than I have in years,” he admits against her skin and the small gesture brings a flush to her cheeks and a warmth to her chest she tries her best to ignore. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” she whispers, heart beating just a bit harder when he shifts to face her.

He has one arm still looped around her, his fingers working through her hair to massage at her scalp while his other caresses her face as gently as one might handle porcelain. His hair is slightly disheveled, a few loose curls falling against his forehead, and the light is shining just so on his eyes, turning then to melting amber and she desperately wishes she had control of the way the air catches in her throat. 

And then he’s kissing her, sensual and unrushed, pulling her closer as he molds his lips to hers. Her own eager to meet whatever shape he needs. The tickle of his tongue, warm and wet against her upper lip, the sharp sting of his teeth catching her bottom lip and they part for him with a sigh. Her tongue meets his, eager but patient, her fingers trailing away from his jaw, over his shoulder, down his chest, palm flattening against his rib cage. He breaks the kiss just enough to breathe, meeting her half lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling just a little too fast, parted lips kiss swollen and hungry for more.

He presses her onto her back and she lets him, expression curious, trusting as he shifts his weight over her. He’s careful not to hurt her, but he settles enough weight for her to feel him and when she shifts her legs to let him rest between them, her thighs hugging his hips, her fingers twisting into his hair, pupils blown so wide in those mismatched eyes he can barely tell the difference between them anymore, he realizes he’s never wanted anything more in his life than he wants her. 

“You are…” He shakes his head, watching his thumb as it drags over her lips, mind reeling as she turns to follow the touch. “I still can’t believe it. Can’t believe I get to call you mine.”

“Well, I’m here,” she breathes, just barely nipping at his palm, more of a scrape of teeth over skin and he bites back a groan. “And I’m all yours.”

And he’s kissing her again, hard and hungry and she whimpers against him. Her thighs squeeze harder against his hips, fingers clinging to him with more desperation. He pulls away from her lips, kisses down her jaw, down her throat, sucking hard just over her pulse. She gasps, squirming and moaning beneath him before he smooths his tongue over the spot, and she doesn’t have it in her to care it’s likely left a mark. 

She takes hold of his shirt and he pulls away just long enough to let her pull it over his head, letting it drop over the side of the bed. He moves back to mouthing at her throat as she lets her hands explore his toned chest and stomach, deft fingers move over his sides, up his back, touches catching and lingering when they find a scar. Hesitantly, as though unsure he lets his own hand slide up her hip, fingers brushing over the bare skin of her side before pushing higher. She pulls her shirt off for him, hoping to encourage. His hands hover over her waist, his eyes dancing restlessly over her body before he finally convinces himself to touch her.

His hands are rough, big and weathered, calluses catching on her skin as they push over her sides, gently massaging at her breast. He watches her face, looking for approval and she pulls him back down to her, mouths meeting in a mess of lips and tongues and teeth. 

She gasps into him when he pinches gently at a nipple, teasing the flesh into a sensitive peak. He kisses back down her neck, nipping over her collarbone, down the stip of skin between her breasts. The rough stubble on his chin scratches at her skin in a pleasant way, makes her shudder and sigh as he sucks a pert nipple between his lips. His hand moves down, pushing her leggings down to her knees and she carefully kicks them the rest of the way off. Fingers skim over her hip, caress the outside of her thigh up to her knee and then back down, dragging his thumb over her hip bone. 

He straightens, separating himself enough from her to take her in and she takes to opportunity to admire him in turn. His cheeks have gone pink, his eyes heavy and dark, his lips swollen and red, his chest heaving as he smooths his hands back over her thighs.

“Maker, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, hand curling around one of her calves to lift her leg, pressing a kiss to her knee.

He shifts, paving a trail with his lips and his teeth up her inner thigh, hands rubbing circles into her hips. Her heart beats faster, a sudden anxiety overwhelming her as he moves closer and closer to her core. She curls her fingers into the sheets, closing her eyes as she feels his breath, hot and heavy on her. Then his tongue pushes between her lips, flat and slow against her as it drags from her entrance to her clit and she chokes back a startled cry, her hips jerking involuntarily beneath him. 

His fingers press harder into her hips, holding her against the mattress as he works his tongue in small languid circles over her clit.

She bites on her lower lip to muffle a moan, muscles in her abdomen and thighs twitching in response to his hot, wet mouth working almost lazily against her. She had been with men before, sex is no new thing to her, but this. This is very new, and undeniably wonderful. 

Then he sucks at the sensitive bundle, groaning against her and she jerks beneath him, fingers gripping at his hair as her back arches.

“Oh! Cullen, vhenan, sathan,” the words tumble almost drunkenly from her lips, her body burning and aching for release as the tension within her winds unbearably tight. 

His grip tightens on her, his dark gaze trained on her face, watching the way her chest heaves as she pants and gasps, her brows pulled low and together, her eyes pressed close, her teeth pressed so hard into her lip she might bite right through it. 

Her thighs press tighter against the side of her head, muscles shaking and twitching uncontrollably, unable to help herself from tugging at his hair as the knot her core is pulled so tight she feels she might snap. He moans against her, lips curling and suckling at her clit again and she’s gone.

She cries out as she comes, everything disappearing except for the waves that burn all the way through to her toes as her body finally gives way and relaxes into the pleasure. 

Cullen massages her trembling thighs, pressing soft kisses against her jaw and cheeks as she comes back down. His hands working soothingly through her hair, combined with the awareness of his solid body beneath her hands returning help to ground her. 

“Are you alright?” Soft, genuine concern as he swipes a tear away before it can roll all the way down her temple.

“Creators, Cullen,” her breathing is finally slightly more under control and she trusts herself to speak again, forcing her eyes open to meet his gaze. 

Gentle, warm, she immediately feels herself relax even further and she reaches up, tracing a finger over the scar on his lip.

“That was incredible,” she finishes and he blinks, eyes widening slightly before he laughs, resting his forehead lightly against hers. 

They stay that way for a long moment, just holding one another, existing in each others space. Leyna licks her lips, taking a deep breath, trying to find it within herself to be direct with him.

“Cullen I… I want,” she lets out a shaky exhale, holding his gaze, willing him to understand as she hooks her fingers in the waistband of his trousers and gives a soft tug, pushing them slightly down his hips. 

The flush on his cheeks darkens, his jaw going slack as he stares down at her but he spares her. Ever so slowly he removes the last article of clothing keeping him from being completely bare to her. His legs are just as strong and toned as the rest of him and his cock, hard and heavy between his legs makes her heart skip several beats. 

Elves are inherently smaller people, lithe and lean compared to the sturdier, bulkier humans. But even still, hes larger than she had thought, and for a moment she wonders how it’s supposed to fit. 

But then he’s leaning back over her, his lips on hers, the kiss almost lazy and she forgets her worry. She curls her fingers into his shoulders, pressing her face into the crook of his neck when she feels him pressing at her entrance. 

“Relax my love, I’ll be gentle,” he whispers, his lips and breath against her ear making her shudder and she can’t help the small whimper that leaves her. 

She does her best to relax against him and he pushes into her at an agonizingly slow pace, letting her feel every inch of him as he stretches her open. 

“Maker’s breath, Leyna, so fucking tight,” he nearly growls the words, fingers gripping so hard at her thighs they might bruise as he tries desperately to keep himself still inside her. 

Again his words right against her ear make her squirm, a weak moan leaving her as she clenches around him. 

He tucks her hair behind her ear, pressing his lips right up against it and she trembles beneath him, an inhale catching in her throat as he traces the shell over her ear with his tongue. Then he bites, just lightly, tugging slightly on her earlobe and she whines, fingernails pressing into his skin, hips shifting against his.

They both moan and it takes everything in him not to throw all his discipline to the wind and fuck her senseless. He takes a few slow breaths, trying to calm himself before slowly pulling out of her, and then thrusting just as slowly back in. 

He waits until he feels her begin to relax beneath him to speed up, thrusting just a bit harder and a bit faster but the strained gasp he’s rewarded with spurs him on. He’s sure to be careful, but he thrusts harder into her, watching her face for any signs of pain but he’s only met by unfocused glassy eyes, and a moan so beautiful it would make the Chantry choirs weep.

“You’re perfect,” he pants the words against her ear again, more than pleased with the way she tightens around him, scratching down his arms as her hips jerk against his. “So hot, and wet, and so, so fucking tight around my cock.” 

His breath, and low raspy voice against her sensitive ear, and his words go straight to her core, her body tensing and squeezing around him as he builds her up to her second release. 

“Fenedhis, Cullen,” she whimpers, trying impossibly to hold herself closer to him. “H-harder, please.”

And his resolve breaks.

He hooks his arms under her, gripping her shoulders to keep her in place as he ruts into her like an animal in heat.

She cries out, the sensation nearly knocking the wind from her, her eyes rolling back into her head as he fucks her into the mattress. Her head is spinning, moans, and choked cries, and broken please spilling from her lips, losing touch with anything and everything other than the feeling of him around her and inside of her, hitting some part of her that has her vision going white.

“Vhenan, ar elana’t, a-ar’m daral ... sathan tel’diana,” the words tumble from her lips, too gone to compose a proper sentence, much less one in the common tongue. 

It doesn’t seem to bother Cullen, who’s pace has become erratic, frantic, growing closer to his own release, the sounds escaping him low and strained.

“Come again for me love,” he groans, his lips just barely brushing over hers. “Want to feel you, squeezing and trembling around me.”

She moans, gasping and writhing beneath him, simultaneously wanting to escape the overwhelming sensations and not wanting them to end. But she’s so close, already so far gone, and she curls her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth down to hers as she reaches her second release. 

He eagerly swallows up her shaky moans and desperate gasps, the kiss messy and barely a kiss at all but they’re both too wrapped up in one another to care. 

A few more thrusts into her and he stills, pressing his face into the crook of her neck as he spills inside of her, his low groan vibrating against her skin and making her shiver. 

They lay that way for what feels like an eternity, holding on to one another like they’ll drift off into the abyss if they were to let go. Their hearts beating too fast against one another’s chests, breathing hard and heavy, bodies trying to recompose themselves as they come back down from their highs.

He shifts, rolling onto his back and pulling her onto his chest, his arms curling around her, hands rubbing soothing circles into her back. 

“Well,” Leyna breathes, her voice still unsteady and weak and Cullen laughs, brushing a strand of hair stuck to her forehead away.

“You are…” he leans back enough to look over her face, eyes flitting over each of her features before he sighs. “You’re extraordinary.”

She flushes, smoothing a finger over one of his brows as she murmurs, “you were… pretty fantastic yourself.”

He smirks, that infuriating, self assured, sexy smirk and she presses a kiss over the scar on his lip. 

He takes a deep breath, looking at her like he has something he wants to say but he doesn’t quite know how. He tightens his grip on her, pulling her closer against him and waits, keeping her eyes fixed on his, wishing she could see what was going on in that head. 

“Vhenan,” he breathes and she feels her stomach flip, the word sudden and unexpected, especially from him, and she struggles to swallow as her throat goes dry. “That means, heart, does it not?” 

“It does,” she confirms, nearly holding her breath as she waits to see how he’s going to respond.

“It’s a term of affection? Like, my love?” 

She nods, watching his brows pull together in thought.

And then he smiles.

“And how do you say, I love you, in Elven?” He whispers, a hint of a laugh somewhere in his tone as he watches the different expressions of shock and realization shift across her face. 

“Ar lath ma,” the words barely leave her as a breath, unable to release all of the air trapped in her chest.

He traces a finger over her cheekbone, eyes following the motion of his fingers over her skin, and then he catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes finally coming back to hers.

“Ar lath ma.”

The breath she had been holding leaves her in a rush and she can’t help but smile back at him, feeling nearly weightless in his arms.

“Cullen … I love you too,” and they feel like words she should have said a long time ago. 

He presses a kiss to her forehead, pulling her against him and she curls into him, pressing her head beneath his chin. 

“I can’t believe they haven’t come looking for us,” Cullen remarks, fingers painting invisible swirls along her back and she huffs.

“I have a feeling a certain spymaster might have bought us some time,” she sighs.

“If that’s the case,” he pulls the blankets back up over them, pressing his face into her hair. “I’ll have to remember to thank her.”


End file.
